The Lock Won't Turn
by TwistedGoth
Summary: AU. Grown and restless, Ludwig finally sets out to stand on his own two feet, but being an adult is much harder than it seems. Struggling along, he comes across a strange man who seems willing to help him out, with both job and lodgings. Working for that guy and his crazy brother, though, Ludwig might wish that he had just kept on walking. Italy x Germany, Romano x Germany, dark.
1. Nice To Meet You

**A/N **: I don't even know, man. Let me start this by saying : THIS IS WEIRD. Like, this whole story is one long acid trip. Literally and figuratively. I felt bad about killing the Italies in the other one, but maybe this isn't exactly the greatest recompense I coulda come up with. :/ Oh well. The day I write pure fluff is the day I've suffered a concussion.

**Warnings! **: AU. Human characters. Violence, language, very heavy drug use, dysfunctional relationships, strange ideas, illegal activities, lots of other bad things. I don't necessarily want to say that this is a dark fic, although it kind of is, but it's probably the weirdest goddamn thing I've ever written. I had this in my head for a while but was too afraid to go forward with it, but what the hell.

**Pairings** : Italy x Germany, Romano x Germany, and yes, that's the right order. No one pairing is greater than the other. Other characters featured are Prussia, Austria, Hungary, plus some cameos here and there.

As always guys, thanks for reading, and I always love to hear from you.

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**THE LOCK WON'T TURN**

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**Chapter 1**

**Nice To Meet You**

Ever since he had been born, he'd had bad luck.

His parents hadn't wanted him. He'd been in the orphanage as long as he could remember. When he had finally been adopted out, ten years old and too excited, it just seemed that he had brought his misfortune along with him. Nothing ever seemed to go right for him or those around him. After a while, his new parents had split apart and realized they hadn't wanted him either. Their oldest son, twenty and forced into a bad position, had taken him instead.

His name was Ludwig.

That was all he knew about himself.

His self-appointed big brother Gilbert, holding him by the hand when they set out alone for the first time, had told him it didn't matter, who his parents were.

'Look at me!' he had said, 'I know my mom and dad and they still hate me. So don't worry about it.'

Ludwig hadn't really taken that much to heart.

After a while, Gilbert came to rest with a man and woman he had apparently known for a long time. Ludwig had looked up at them, and tried not to get his hopes up.

He'd probably bring them bad luck, too.

In the end, maybe he did, if only by shaking up their household and being a strain on their marriage.

Gilbert, restless and not quite mature enough to be a real guardian, left Ludwig in Roderich and Erzsébet's care to go off on his own. They loved Ludwig, he didn't have much of a doubt about that, but the older he got, the more he was in tune with them.

He was a burden, as much as a joy.

On the day he turned eighteen, Roderich put hands on his hips, sent Ludwig a bright smile, and said, 'Damn! I can't believe how tall you've gotten. I'm proud of you, Ludwig.'

Erzsébet had wrung her hands as she had said, later on, 'Gosh, Ludwig, you've really grown. You're a man now, aren't you?'

He had understood Roderich's gushing as much as he had understood Erzsébet's hint.

Roderich loved him and wanted him to stay.

Erzsébet loved him and wanted him to leave the nest.

He did her a service, and tried to be an independent adult by leaving the house soon after. He held her no ill-will. Hell, he wasn't _their _kid, and she had given him eight years of care.

Let her enjoy solitary time with her husband.

Damn, though. If he had known how hard it was to be an adult, he might have imposed himself upon them a little longer.

He didn't want to stay with Gilbert, because that was just him relying on someone else. He hadn't even talked to Gilbert for nearly two years. He didn't want the first words he said after that silence to be him begging for help.

He tried hard to make it, and looked around for a job.

Roderich had given him money when he had said he wanted to set out, enough to get him by for a while, but Ludwig understood better why most teens bemoaned their lives.

It was hard on the outside.

He couldn't find a job, two weeks after he had left, and his funds were dwindling. He was too ashamed to return to Roderich, and too proud to seek out Gilbert. A couple of nights, he had no choice but to sleep beneath an underpass or huddled in some alleyway, reluctant to spend the last of his money on a hotel.

How the hell did people do this?

He was too socially awkward to get the hang of life right off.

The weather grew colder.

He wandered, here and there, farther and farther from home, and a month after he had set out, he found himself in Innsbruck, not too far from the Italian border.

He didn't know what had led him down there other than just another instance of terrible luck.

That was where the whole damn thing had started.

One chilly morning, irritable and on a three-day streak of sleeping beneath a bridge, he had wandered into the city and plopped down onto a bench in exhaustion.

His feet ached.

No one else sat down next to him, even when morning turned into afternoon.

He held his heavy head in his palm, zoned out as he tried to plot his next move, and shifted every so often when his stomach grumbled with hunger. His cheeks were coated in stubble, his hair hung uncombed, his coat was dirty, and his shoes were scuffed.

His head hurt.

He sat there, dumbly, until a shadow fell over him in the late afternoon sun. The wind had picked up by then, and he had huddled up.

"Hey."

The sound of a voice so close to him startled him, and he looked upward with a jump. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the white sunlight.

A man stood before him, slouched in casual ease and hands tucked in his pockets.

The first thing Ludwig had noticed about him was that he was handsome. That was easy to see.

He wasn't all that tall, kinda stocky, more so with the coat he wore. His hair, messy and brunet, whipped around in the wind, a dark shadow of stubble coated his cheeks, and his thick brows were lifted up. Skin that was a few shades darker than his own, square jaw and strong chin, a nose that was bumped in the middle, strong shoulders and a few sun-freckles on his cheeks.

He had pretty eyes. Brown, glowing golden in the sunlight. An odd thing to notice about a stranger, perhaps, but Ludwig had already thought it. Too late to take it back.

They stared at each other for a second, and Ludwig was painfully aware of how rough he looked in comparison to this handsome newcomer.

After another second, the man lifted up his chin, and spoke.

"Hey. You're sittin' on my bench."

His voice was mellow and smooth, not quite as deep as Ludwig's own.

Ludwig, feeling apprehensive and defense and so damn frustrated, just crinkled his nose and furrowed his brow, before snipping, lowly, "Don't see your name written on it."

"Actually, friend," the man said, amicably, "If you divert your attention to the left you'll see that my name _is _written there, as a matter of fact."

Oh.

He glanced quickly to the aforementioned left, saw a scrawl in the wood that read something like 'Feliciano', and looked back up.

Well, then. Seemed settled.

He stood up, legs feeling so heavy, and griped, "What kinda name is that?"

"Mine," came the breezy answer.

Another short glance between them.

The man had tensed up in the moment Ludwig had stood, bracing his feet and shoulders, and it was obvious that he was expecting Ludwig to be belligerent.

Yeah, what else was new?

Everyone had always been a little leery of him. He hadn't ever known why.

He had never even thought about hurting anyone. He avoided fights like the plague. He never had foul words for even those who antagonized him. He had always tried to use patience rather than violence.

Gilbert had always told him he was too nice for his own good.

Still, though, most people avoided him.

So the man lifted a surprised brow when Ludwig slumped his shoulders in exhausted submission, gave the weirdo his bench, and turned his back to walk off in defeat.

Time to find somewhere else to crash.

As he went, the man spoke to him again.

"Hey, kid, wait."

Irritable as he was, he still stopped, and looked over his shoulder.

The man was staring at him, still standing there and still smiling in that friendly manner.

"I was just playin' with you, you know. You lost?"

Ludwig cast him a look of melancholy, and said, for some reason, "Not lost. Just don't have anywhere to go."

With that, he turned again and kept walking.

Footsteps behind him, and suddenly the man was trotting at his side.

"Hey, slow down! I can't keep up with those long legs a' yours."

Kinda the point, but Ludwig felt himself slowing all the same. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little lonely, being alone this long month.

He didn't offer much in the way of conversation, but the strange guy didn't seem discouraged.

"Where are you stayin'? You look a little rough."

Fully aware of that, Ludwig muttered, "I'm not staying anywhere. I've been walkin' for a while."

The man smiled, still struggling to keep up even though Ludwig had slowed his pace.

"What happened? You get kicked out or something? How old are you? Where'd you come from?"

Ludwig furrowed his brow, couldn't get a word in for the quick questions, and when he spoke again, all he said was a low, irritable, "What's it matter?"

The man seemed hardly put off, and kept on following him.

Couldn't shake him, that much was certain.

"Since you don't have anywhere to go, I wouldn't mind puttin' you up for a while, until you get on your feet. What do you say, huh? I could use some help. Give you something to do."

He felt his feet fall still, and finally turned to look at the man.

Hell, he needed all the help he could get.

"Well," he began, tentatively, "What do you do?"

"Ah, this and that. You'll see. So what do you say?"

The man saw Ludwig's reluctance, and tried a different tactic.

"Well, look. Just come home with me, and we'll talk about it, alright? You look like you could use a rest. I'll make ya something to eat, you can take a shower and get some sleep, and I'll just run it by you. Whaddya say? Don't look like ya got much to lose."

And that was true, so Ludwig finally caved, and nodded his head.

"...alright."

Just like that, the man's face lit up, and he reached out to clap a friendly hand on Ludwig's shoulder, saying, "Excellent! Name's Feliciano, in case you don't recall. Come on, it's this way."

He was turned around, led back past the bench, and they walked for a good half-hour until Feliciano started walking up steps.

A brick house.

Ludwig was so jittery that that was really all he had noticed. Didn't even notice the name of the street they had walked on to, or the house number. Probably shoulda paid more attention.

A key jingled the lock.

Felt so _strange_, stepping inside the house of a complete stranger.

His heart was thudding in his chest.

The first thing he saw, when he walked through the door, were paintings. All over.

A flood of relief.

"Is this what you do? I don't know anything about painting. I'm not an artist or anything like that."

His relief didn't last long when Feliciano barked a laugh.

"Just a hobby of mine," Feliciano said, airily. "Don't you have one?"

"Not really."

"That's a shame."

He was led around a corner, Feliciano motioned for him to take off his coat as he took off his own, and Ludwig was led into a warm kitchen.

The paint scheme was bright. The furniture was bright, too. Arched windows. Pretty decorations.

His anxiety subsided.

A nice little house, that was for sure.

Nothing horrible like he had imagined.

Feliciano sat down at the kitchen table, reached down into his pant pocket, and pulled out a bottle of pills.

"Like it?" came the smooth croon, when Feliciano saw him eyeballing the scenery, and Ludwig nodded his head immediately.

"It's pretty," he offered, and Feliciano smiled.

"Thanks."

Finally, Feliciano kicked his boots onto the table, uncapped the bottle and shook a handful of pills into his hand, and when he looked at Ludwig, he spared another quick smile before putting them back.

Ludwig was happy not knowing what they were.

A shake of Feliciano's head, and he inclined his chin to the hall. "Bathroom's down there," he said, quickly. "Go get cleaned up, and I'll start lunch. You can spend the night tonight, whether you decide to work for me or not."

Ludwig felt his tense chest loosen a little.

Well.

What a nice guy.

He grabbed his bag, trudged wearily to the bathroom, and heaved a sigh of relief.

The shower was a welcome sight.

He must have stayed in there for a whole fuckin' hour, just relaxing under the water and getting his fill of comfort, and by the time he toweled his hair off and started shaving, his mood was lifting.

Felt nice, being clean and comfortable.

When he came back out in new clothes and hair neatly combed, Feliciano looked a little looser, too, and maybe his eyes and cheeks were a little red as he lounged at the table. Ludwig tried not to dwell on it, feeling so much more comfortable now that he was clean, and wondering if Feliciano had popped questionable pills was not high on his wanting-to-know list.

So when Feliciano motioned for him to sit, he did.

He felt better, sitting in a warm house, freshly bathed and not feeling so damn lost, and his mood improved even more, Feliciano's sloppiness aside.

Off-guard.

Probably what Feliciano had intended all along.

Getting him cozy.

The smile that Feliciano sent him over the table was something close to a leer, and he drawled, lifting his eyes up and down, "Well, you cleaned up nicely, didn't you?"

He didn't know about any of that, but tried to give a polite smile all the same.

Probably looked more like a grimace.

All the same, Feliciano pulled himself up, still leering, and went to the stove.

He thought he heard Feliciano mutter, under his breath, 'Damn good-lookin', too.'

His cheeks were as red as Feliciano's then.

Embarrassment.

Food was put in front of him before long, and he ate slowly and politely even though he could have easily shoveled it in his mouth like a dog.

No doubt this kindness had a price, but he was more inclined to pay it with every minute that passed.

They ate in silence aside from mindless small talk, and he offered up his name and age, at Feliciano's request, and told him a little about himself.

Feliciano rested a chin in his palm the whole while Ludwig spoke, and just listened.

When he was done, Feliciano seemed pleased and interested.

Strange, for Ludwig, because most people didn't pay attention to him at all.

No one ever gave him a second glance unless it was out of fear.

"All that way!" Feliciano said, later. "No wonder you look so tired. I'll let ya get to sleep soon, don't worry."

Ludwig raised his brows, eyes feeling heavy, and nodded. He _had_ come a long way, that was certain.

Sleep was exceedingly appealing.

Feliciano pulled out a bottle of wine later, and Ludwig didn't refuse any glasses even though he probably should have.

The evening turned into night, and Ludwig felt at ease for the first time in a month.

Feliciano waited until his face was relaxed before he finally brought up the topic of work, and that a smart idea, when Ludwig thought back on it.

Feliciano sent him a wide smile, and studied him carefully. Ludwig fidgeted under his prying look, and Feliciano just smiled all the wider, canines poking out in a charming way.

"You're so shy!" he teased, when Ludwig looked down at the table with a red face, and maybe that was appealing to someone as bold and outgoing as Feliciano.

The conversation kept on from there, and Feliciano's next observation about Ludwig, although accurate, was not quite as benign.

"You're a pretty big guy, you know? I mean, now that I'm talkin' to you, I know you're just a big pushover, sweet as can be, but anyone who doesn't know you probably thinks you're tough, huh? You wouldn't hurt anyone, but they don't have to know that, right? I just want you to run a few errands for me, is all. All you have to do is look scary. You're good at that, whether you wanna be or not. Can you do that?"

Immediately, Ludwig's common sense said, 'Holy shit, get the fuck out of here right now, you idiot.'

He edged his seat backwards towards the door.

"What kind of errands?"

"The kind that you don't worry about askin' what kind," was the somewhat evasive response, and Ludwig stood up from the table, anxiously, and took a step back.

Feliciano's smile stood strong, and he hauled himself up from the table and took a step forward to counter Ludwig's attempt to edge away.

It was then that Ludwig looked around, _really _looked around, and realized that there were quite a few pill bottles layin' around. In fact, every time he turned his head, it seemed, there was another bottle.

How hadn't he noticed those before?

Oh, shit.

Feliciano was right in front of him suddenly, and his smile was showing his teeth again, crinkling his eyes in a handsome way. Feliciano probably could have gotten anyone to do anything, as charming as he was and with that bright smile, and Ludwig had always been a pushover, just like Feliciano said.

He hesitated, despite the screeching voice in his head.

"Come on," Feliciano goaded, "Where the hell are you gonna go? This is the easiest job you'll ever find. I promise, as long as you do everything I say, there won't be any problems. Let's help each other out. Where are you gonna go?"

A hand stuck out suddenly before him, and Ludwig stared down at it as if it were a snake.

Damn.

He didn't have anywhere else to go.

He didn't have anyone else.

So, in the end, he bit down his common sense, silenced the warning in his head, gave a weak, somewhat defeated smile, and took Feliciano's big hand within his own.

The first words that Feliciano said to him after they shook on it were, "You've got pretty eyes, you know. Come on, I got a room for ya upstairs."

Pretty eyes. Maybe that hadn't been such a strange thought on his part after all.

Feliciano put that heavy hand on his back, and led him upstairs.

After that, it seemed, Feliciano's hand never left him.

He always seemed to find himself in unfortunate situations. He was easy to take advantage of. Always had been.

Bad luck.


	2. Showtime

**Chapter 2**

**Showtime**

The first errand wasn't hard.

Ludwig had spent the first night in that house rolling around restlessly in bed, fretting over everything and feeling more than a little jittery.

Worrying.

The things he had gotten himself into, the terrifying prospect of his new 'job', worrying about his well-being, and it didn't help that the room didn't exactly look like it had never been occupied.

The blankets had a faint, vague scent of cologne and smoke.

Clothes in the dresser that hadn't been touched in a while.

Tossing about, he had flopped onto his back in the early morning hours, looked up at the ceiling, and wondered how many other guys had once slept in this bed, having crossed paths unintentionally with Feliciano, where they were now and if they were still alright.

How long he would be here.

The next morning, Ludwig toppled out of bed, bleary-eyed and exhausted and with a headache, and poked his head carefully out of the door. No one in sight, and he darted into the bathroom.

Looked like hell, but he didn't even bother trying to shave.

He had almost been thinking about making a break for it, honestly, and when he took his bag up off the floor and crept back into the hall, he winced with every creak the stairs made beneath his feet.

Didn't matter, anyway.

Feliciano was already sitting on the couch, and when he looked over his shoulder, he honed in immediately on Ludwig and asked, "Goin' somewhere?"

A long, dumb silence, and then Ludwig shook his head, and set his bag down next to the staircase.

Feliciano broke into another one of those great smiles, and stood up.

"Hey, you hungry? Bet you are! You probably eat a lot, from the look of ya. I'll have to stock up on food while you're here, I guess. Come on. I'll make breakfast. Go ahead and sit down. We'll talk."

Feliciano did enough talking for the both of them, it seemed, and Ludwig found himself being dragged into the kitchen.

There went his chance.

Blew it.

The talk that Feliciano gave him wasn't exactly the talk he had been expecting.

Honestly, he had already hunkered down at the table and prepared himself for, 'Trying to escape, huh? You know, now that you've seen so much either you work for me or I'll haveta kill ya.'

He felt a dull throb in his hands, and glanced down to realize that he was gripping the sides of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were white.

Rather than a threat, however, Feliciano just looked back at him, eyeballing him without shame, and said, "If you wanna go, you can, you know. I'm not gonna stop you. But, damn! I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't want you to stay. Gets kinda lonely here, all by myself."

He shifted, a little, and Feliciano must have seen his uncertainty.

"And I gotta say, it's not like I'd ever come across someone as good-lookin' as you again in a million years, so I'd definitely count my losses if ya left!"

And just like that, Ludwig felt his hands loosen their grip, his shoulders fell of their own accord, and in a second his eyes had fallen to the table in embarrassment.

Like always, he faltered, and caved.

Somehow, Feliciano knew it, and it was with a grand smile of triumph that he started making breakfast.

The smell of coffee wasn't too comforting this time. Should have run when he had had the chance.

Sometimes, Ludwig hated himself.

"Here ya go, kid. Hurry and eat, 'cause I got something for you to do."

This was one of those times.

He did the opposite of hurry, and ate so slowly that Feliciano started drumming fingers on the table restlessly, and his foot started tapping soon after.

When Ludwig started slurping slowly on his coffee, Feliciano pulled a pink pill out of his pocket and swallowed it. Ludwig was pretty sure that he had rolled his eyes as he had done so.

When the mug was a little less than halfway full, Feliciano's patience finally wore out, and he jumped up, pulling Ludwig to his feet by the arm and dragging him into the living room.

"Done? Great!"

"I—"

No time to speak, as Feliciano went to the desk in the corner and pulled open the drawer.

Rustling and searching.

Ludwig felt the coffee and breakfast rising back up when Feliciano finally found what he was looking for.

The burn of acid in the back of his throat.

Felt sick all of a sudden.

"Come here," Feliciano gestured, and Ludwig obeyed without a word, creeping along and absolutely silent as Feliciano pulled out a little package.

Just a tiny, thin white parcel, the kind mailmen delivered, and instead of handing it to Ludwig, Feliciano walked right up to him, reached out, and pulled up his shirt.

Ludwig was well-aware of the red on his cheeks, and his hands flew up, grabbed the hem of his shirt, trying in vain to pull it back down. Didn't get too far, though, and Feliciano's surprisingly strong hands held fast.

"I'm not gonna strip you down or anything!" he cooed, as he pulled the shirt back up, and it didn't take a lot of struggling before Ludwig folded, and let his arms drop back down. Feliciano shot him a little leer, and said, for the second time in as many days, "You're so shy!"

Yeah, yeah, he knew that already.

All teasing aside, Feliciano started poking around, and in a couple of minutes Ludwig had watched Feliciano tape the envelope to his skin and pat it flat.

"There! That's great, don't touch it. I tried not to get any of your hair in it so it won't pull."

Gosh. How considerate. The cops would no doubt lament pulling the hair on his stomach when they ripped the fuckin' packing tape off of him and slammed him down onto the hood of their car.

Oh, shit. Bad thoughts.

Panic.

He was shuffling by then, wondering how he had found himself in this situation, and Feliciano pulled his shirt back down and looked him over.

Nausea.

Maybe he could run for the hills when he was outside.

Oh, that was a brilliant idea, running off with some drug-dealer's shit, a real great idea, and then he'd just be runnin' forever because otherwise he was probably going to be whacked, and now he was going to puke, he was sure of it, and god only knew what the hell was in that envelope, it was probably enough to get him locked up for years if he got caught with it, caught with shit like that, and was he crying, 'cause it felt like he was crying and oh god he was gonna fall over, his legs were so wobbly—

Hands suddenly grabbed his face, firmly, and Feliciano shook him.

His blurry vision cleared. Earth came back.

"Hey! You still there? Calm down, you look like you're gonna faint or something."

His forehead felt chilly.

Feliciano's hands were far too warm, or maybe that was because he felt so cold suddenly.

"Breathe, kid. It'll be fine."

When the hell had he started trembling?

Another shake.

"You alright? You're not gonna be sick are ya?"

Numbly, he shook his head, although he very well might be soon.

"Good."

Feliciano's fingers left his cheeks and fell right back down to his stomach.

A smile.

"You're adorable."

'And you're an asshole,' he retorted, except not really.

In his mind, he retorted swiftly and snarkily.

Vocally, all he got out was a strangled grunt.

"This is really easy," Feliciano said, as his fingers ran over Ludwig's shirt much longer than they needed to, "so try not to worry too much, alright? I wouldn't give you anything big right off!" The fingers were suddenly straightening his collar and then smoothing his hair, wiping his damp brow, Ludwig was sure his heart was about to give out, and Feliciano kept on smiling. "Gosh! Look at you! I just can't get over how damn handsome ya are. How'd you wind up here, anyway, honestly? A guy like you should be makin' movies or something."

...ah.

Another smoothing of his hair, and his nausea started dying down a bit.

Probably because his ego had been stoked.

Not the worst thing he'd ever heard in his life. Maybe this creep wasn't so bad after all.

A gentle pat on his cheek, and Feliciano was shoving him towards the door.

Ludwig realized quickly that he had been intentionally distracted, and damn, had it worked. What a sneaky bastard.

Still, he made it out to the steps without puking or falling over, and Feliciano's warm hand was on his shoulder, and the other was stuffing a paper into his palm.

"How's your sense of direction? I wrote the address down, but I know you're new around here, so I drew ya a little map, too. Just follow the directions, and you'll get there alright. And I wrote down how much he owes you, too. Make sure ya count it, okay? If he tries to shortchange you, just, like, I don't know—square your shoulders or somethin'. Try to look scary, but don't open your mouth whatever you do, 'cause you're not really scary at all. Get the money before you give him the stuff, alright? Always get the money first."

He heard most of that, he thought, but gripped the paper anyway and tried to maneuver his way around the city when he was shoved again.

This time, Ludwig took note of every street, every sign, and memorized Feliciano's house.

He followed the scribbled map, and looked over his shoulder every ten seconds, feeling paranoid and guilty.

He was helpless.

Terrified.

But, just as Feliciano had promised, the first errand wasn't hard, and somehow he wound up exactly where he was supposed to be, in some shitty apartment complex in the sketchy side of town, standing before a scraped door and feeling sick all over again.

The carpet in the hall was stained with who knew what.

Better not to know.

The tape on his stomach was itching like crazy, but he drew up his fist, banged it on the door, and waited. Shuffling within, and then the door creaked open, and eyes peered out.

"Who's there?"

What could he say? 'The guy who's delivering your fix?'

Feliciano was right about one thing :

Better not to open his mouth.

So, he reached carefully under his shirt, ripped the package off his stomach without wincing, and brought it out into the open.

The door swung open in a flash, and jittery hands groped for the envelope.

Nope! Feliciano's words rang in his ears, and his reflexes took over as he lifted the envelope up and kept it well out of reach.

Get the money first, Feliciano had said.

Even in doing something that scared the hell out of him, he still tried to stick to the rules.

In this case, he was surely breaking much more important rules in the process, though.

There was that headache again.

At any rate, the situation was already upon him, and there was no turning around now.

Back to the task at hand.

Nothing had ever been truer than what Feliciano had said about him when they first met; he was a big guy, and people were intimidated by it. Didn't even take the man in the doorframe a second to give up snatching and then fork over the money, keeping his head and voice very low as he did so.

It was for the best that he didn't start screamin' or trying to low-ball, because Ludwig would have turned tail and run for the hills if he had.

As they said, appearances, deceiving, all that whatnot.

The package was exchanged for money, Ludwig stuffed it in his pocket and was certain he was six shades paler than usual, the guy slammed the door, and Ludwig bolted.

He had managed that whole exchange without a word.

Ludwig went back to Feliciano's, running more than walking, and when he saw the house, so damn inconspicuous in this neat neighborhood, he couldn't get up the steps fast enough. No doubt that he was not being followed, but panic seemed the natural response. He pushed in through the door, shut it behind, and slumped up against it in relief.

Whew. Hadn't felt this much adrenaline since he'd been adopted.

Dizziness.

He heaved a sigh, tried to calm down, and behind that burn of nervousness, there was something else.

He was a little proud of himself.

He knew that he was doing something he shouldn't, but sometimes maybe it was better just to not ask too many questions. Pill bottles. Everyone had pill bottles in their house, right? He was content pretending that it was all prescription. Feliciano just had sixteen separate illnesses that required pills, was all.

Ha.

Anyway, hadn't hurt anybody, had it? As long as he didn't hurt anybody.

A voice from around the corner.

"Ludwig, you back already?"

A head poked out soon after, Feliciano's bright smile lit up the room, and Ludwig pushed himself off the door, nodding his head. He felt himself digging around in his pocket, and clenched the money when he found it, holding it out in his no doubt sweaty palm.

Feliciano was quick to come over, put a hand down on his shoulder, and say, loudly, "Good job!"

For some unholy reason, Ludwig smiled a little, pulse racing in his neck, and felt a little good about himself.

Pride.

Feliciano took the money, counted it quickly, and gave a third of it back to him, as had been promised sometime the night before.

That was the first time in his life he had earned money by working, and it was simultaneously the first time in his life he had done something illegal.

Honestly?

Hadn't been too hard. Not too hard at all. Feliciano hadn't been lying when he had said it was easy money.

Now that he was back inside and safe and sound, it didn't seem as scary.

Just walkin' down the road like that—who would ever know?

He didn't feel quite as horrible about himself as he had thought he would.

"You did pretty good," Feliciano crooned as he slung an arm around his neck. "For the first time. Not too bad! I think you'll be a natural. I'm a good judge of character, you know."

Oh, no doubt, which was why this bastard had honed in on Ludwig in the first place, because he had seen a guy he could bully (gently and with praise, yeah, but bully all the same) and manipulate.

Feliciano had probably thought to himself, 'Look at this big blockhead, I bet I can have him wrapped around my finger in a week.'

The sad thing was that it hadn't even taken a damn week—he was already fumbling around Feliciano's heels like a buffoon after two days.

All those compliments, though...

Kinda tempting.

Feliciano smothered him in affection and soothing words for the rest of the day, Ludwig felt an undeserved sense of satisfaction, Feliciano got his way and got Ludwig to stay, and by the time Ludwig went to bed, he was as high in the clouds as the pill-poppers probably were.

The first time in his life anyone had ever treated him like this.

Probably the only time, too, so why not enjoy it while it lasted?

Feliciano was the only person that had ever been nice to him for no reason at all. Gilbert was his brother, Roderich was his father, and Erzsébet was his mother, and they had taken on those roles because circumstance had thrust Ludwig upon them.

This guy had no reason, no reason at all, and had been nice to him just because.

Nothing had ever felt quite like that.

So Ludwig cast aside his morality, at least some of it, and decided that he would call this place home for a while, because he wasn't hurting anyone and Feliciano was nice to him.

That night, he didn't sleep much better than the night before, not out of fear this time so much as the writhing of his conscience.

In the end, he fought it off and fell asleep.

Everyone broke the law at some point in their life, right?

Right.

He woke up the next morning to something moving around next to him, and when he opened his eyes, he nearly had a fuckin' heart attack when he saw Feliciano sitting on the foot on the bed, Ludwig's phone in his hands.

An extreme invasion of personal space, and yet when Ludwig sat up in a panic, Feliciano just looked over at him like nothing was wrong, messy-haired and heavy-eyed, and said, huskily, "Morning!"

And then he turned his eyes back down to the phone as if all were right in the world, content to rifle through it as Ludwig sat there in a daze.

Gripping the blanket in heavy hands and trying to get his sleep-shocked brain working, he swallowed against his dry throat, and rasped, "What are you doing?"

Nonchalantly, Feliciano said, without looking up, "Getting to know you a little better."

Too early for his head to be hurting this bad.

Feliciano suddenly snorted, and turned the phone to Ludwig briefly.

"Who's this guy? Boyfriend?"

The tone of Feliciano's voice was a little strange, but Ludwig didn't dwell much on it as he glanced quickly at the phone.

Ah, hell. Fuckin' Gilbert, snapping pictures of them together as he loved to do, big as that damn ego was, and Feliciano was no doubt interested in the photo of the drunk guy planting a slobbering kiss on his cheek.

Why had he kept that picture?

"That's my brother."

Sentimentality, no doubt.

"Ah."

Did Feliciano's smile get brighter? Shit.

Minutes that felt too long, of someone else going through his privacy, and Ludwig finally gathered the courage to topple out of bed, grab his shirt off the dresser and pull it on, and start hovering over nosy Feliciano until he took the hint.

Took a while.

"You know," came the sudden cheery statement, "You really shouldn't keep some of this stuff on here. If somebody stole this thing they'd know just about everything. You need to be more careful. Especially now." A charming smile. "You're really cute, you know. You seem like the kinda guy that thinks everyone is as nice as you are."

The laugh that Feliciano gave then made his stomach squirm in embarrassment, and when Feliciano offered up the phone, Ludwig snatched it too quickly.

Feliciano could be more than a little condescending when he wanted to be.

A long minute of staring at each other, and if Ludwig hadn't been so violated, he might have taken more of an interest in how handsome Feliciano was in the morning, unshaven and wild-haired and with circles hanging under his eyes.

No doubt he was being ogled a little himself, and he was painfully aware of the scrutinizing look Feliciano was sending him, and when he pushed himself off of the bed, he very intentionally bumped his chest into Ludwig's.

"Say," Feliciano suddenly said, "You don't look like you've been sleeping so good up here. If you want, you can always come sleep in my room."

Ah—

"I'm alright," he somehow managed to grunt, and Feliciano's smile held strong.

"Well. Open offer."

His heart started hammering again when Feliciano reached down, grabbed his hand, and dragged him out.

He was perfectly capable of walking without someone holding his hand, so he couldn't really say why he let Feliciano lead him along.

That smile.

"By the way," Feliciano said, as they walked down the stairs, "I closed your bank account while you were out yesterday."

A jolt, and he found himself freezing still on the staircase, free hand gripping the railing as he gawked down at Feliciano and the other hand keeping Feliciano from moving, since the bastard wouldn't let it go.

"You what?"

"You heard me!" Feliciano said, quite pleasantly, and he finally let go of Ludwig to raise up a hand to motion Ludwig on downward.

Ludwig fell down the rest of the stairs more than he descended them, and when he was somehow standing in front of Feliciano again with an un-broken neck, he asked, again, "You _what_? How?"

"Don't worry about it, that's how."

Yikes.

Feliciano stuck out his hand again then, focusing his look a bit, and Ludwig was already sweating.

There it was again, him falling for Feliciano's charms only to have it bite him in the ass.

"Give me your wallet," Feliciano demanded, and Ludwig found himself reaching into his pocket automatically, even though his common sense told him not to.

Didn't seem like a good idea to antagonize Feliciano, and by not antagonizing Feliciano, he really meant doing absolutely everything Feliciano said without a word of protest because he liked being alive and in one piece, thank you very much.

Didn't know this guy. Smiled all the time and seemed ditzy, sure, a nice guy, but that didn't mean Ludwig was gonna start poking him with a stick to find out what happened.

He gripped his wallet, handed it to Feliciano, and hardly managed a horrified inhale when Feliciano took his bank card right out and snapped it deftly in two.

Airily, he tossed the pieces to the floor, met Ludwig's eye, and said, "We're all cash now. No more cards, no more banks, no more trails. No more checks. Yesterday shoulda made that obvious. You gonna try to get one of _those_ guys to swipe a card? Ha! Cash. Get it?"

Dumbly, Ludwig nodded, and was trying very hard not to envision himself split in half like that damn card, and for some reason, he still asked, "So, er, where will I be keeping my cash, then?"

Feliciano lifted a brow, and said, simply, "You got a friend? Somebody you trust? Keep it there. You can wire it. And I mean it when I say somebody you trust, too, 'cause I don't deal in change. I have a pretty good business going on here, good income, and I don't want anyone asking you too many questions. For my sake!"

Ludwig just nodded.

He didn't really want to know what happened to him if someone asked too many questions.

"I got someone."

Gilbert. Gilbert was less than honest himself, in many ways, so he seemed the obvious check-keeper.

What a conversation _that _would be.

'Hey Gilbert, we haven't talked in forever, but I'm about to start sending you a shitload of money. Don't ask where it's from, just stash it for me. Love you!'

Knowing Gilbert, though, he'd probably just say, 'Sure thing!'

"Good. Problem solved!"

A clap on his shoulder, fingers dug into his muscle, and Ludwig was pretty sure then that Feliciano was touching him way too much.

Erzsébet had warned him about these kind of guys, once he had started getting older. He had thought she was blowin' smoke when she had saw him shaving for the first time and told him that being an adult meant nothing but trouble, but apparently not.

Trouble, alright.

Well. No time to mull it over—Feliciano took a fistful of his shirt and started dragging him gently into the kitchen.

Hands on his shoulders forced him down into the seat, and Ludwig's terrified mind counted fifteen long seconds that those hands lingered there afterwards.

A squeeze.

Feliciano sat down then, opened his mouth, and he didn't shut the hell up for the next five hours.

Somehow, Ludwig heard about a tenth of everything he said and was pretty sure all the same that he actually hadn't missed anything important.

The hardest thing he had done so far here was biting down the urge to open his mouth and moan, 'For god's sake, shut the fuck _up_.'

Every time that Feliciano burst into laughter at who knew what or said something apparently important, he leaned forward and placed his hand on whatever part of Ludwig happened to be closest; his hand, his arm, his shoulder, and sometimes he reached out the brushed the top of his hair.

If Ludwig took his eyes off of Feliciano for any short period of time, Feliciano would jostle him until he looked back over. If he tried lowering his head, Feliciano lowered his farther and ducked down until he could force eye contact, and he peered up at Ludwig as he kept on yappin'.

Every morning after that one, come to think, seemed to be the same.

Feliciano must have considered them 'friends' now.

Friends. Sure. If he didn't know better, he would have said that this guy was planning ways to get in his pants.

Never made too bold of moves, though, and it was two weeks that Ludwig had been living with him when the most interesting thing happened.

He had made six deliveries in those two weeks.

Each of them had felt like a new circle of hell, but he had accomplished each one all the same, and he wouldn't deny that Feliciano's constant praise was pleasant to his ears.

Most of his life had been spent trying to please others. Just because this man was a little dangerous didn't really make his words fell any less amazing.

At any rate, danger aside, after two weeks there had been the dull thud of a car door slamming shut from outside, and then someone started pushing open the front door.

Ludwig tensed up, and was terrified that it was a fuckin' cop.

Not quite.

Heavy steps, a tired sigh, and Feliciano was already racing to the door.

"There he is!" Feliciano cried, as he saw someone he apparently knew, and Ludwig peered around the corner as a man slunk inside, and he and Feliciano bumped their fists together in greeting.

He was very much content to stay hidden, but Feliciano had other ideas.

Feliciano slung an arm around the man's shoulders, tugged him in, and said, brightly, "Ludwig! Come here! This is my brother. Lovino."

Ludwig bit down his sigh and came out, was quick to put out his hand as a normal human being would, and fully expected to engage in a friendly handshake.

Hardly.

Feliciano's brother just sent Ludwig a rather testy look, and was quick to crinkle his nose as he eyed Ludwig's hand foully.

Right off, Ludwig knew Lovino was trouble.

Nonetheless, when Feliciano pushed him forward, Lovino grunted, reluctantly, "Hey."

"Hi."

Ludwig lowered his hand slowly back down to his side, feeling like a damn idiot, and Lovino turned back to his brother.

Trying to look a little calmer than he was, Ludwig stuck his rejected hand into his pocket, and tried his best to pass himself off as a man whose feelings remained very much unhurt.

Even if they kinda were.

As much as no one had ever been as nice to him as Feliciano was, it had been a long time since someone had looked at him like _that_.

Feliciano seemed oblivious—no surprise there—and reached out to clap Lovino on the back.

"You woulda met him earlier, but he was, ah, otherwise occupied." Lovino grimaced, and Feliciano turned to him and added, "They let you out early!"

Tossing his hair, Lovino said, simply, "Good behavior."

"Bullshit! Who'd you bribe?"

Ludwig, feeling out of place, just stood there and watched them speak, and observed Lovino when Lovino stopped trying to murder him with his eyes.

Lovino had pretty eyes, too, when they weren't narrowed into slits.

The resemblance between the brothers wasn't uncanny, exactly, but it was certainly there, in certain features. The bridges of their noses, the shape of their jaw, the gentle slant of their eyes.

Lovino was a little shorter than Feliciano, yet a bit bigger in the shoulders and chest, a little rougher on the edges. His hair was a bit darker, not styled as neatly as Feliciano's. His cheeks were coated in stubble, circles hung under his eyes, his voice was deeper and gruffer, and something about him seemed a little wild.

His footsteps were loud and heavy compared to Feliciano's.

Feliciano, obviously ecstatic at this new arrival, sent Ludwig a great smile.

"Call us partners in crime," Feliciano joked in what wasn't really a joke so much as a truthful statement, and Ludwig just shifted his weight and suddenly wanted to go wailing back to Roderich.

_ Oh_, Erzsébet!

He hadn't been ready to be an adult. Crawling into their arms and crying about these two psychos was suddenly tempting. He had never called them mother and father out loud, because they weren't, but damn it all if he didn't wanna run home to mama.

Not really an option, however, so he just stood there and stared as the brothers settled in.

Lovino plopped down on the couch, looking exhausted, and Feliciano tossed him a bottle of alcohol shortly after. Lovino put it back like water straight from the neck, kept on glancing at Ludwig, and kept on sneering.

That darker contrast between them wasn't just in appearance; Ludwig could tell that right off, just in the air around Lovino and the way he moved. Feliciano had little creases around his nose from constant smiling. Lovino had a crease in his brow for constant frowning.

Lovino was darker than Feliciano in every sense.

If Feliciano was sunlight, then Lovino was a thunderbolt.

A storm, always brewing and sometimes bursting.

Lovino's hands were scarred, and Ludwig was content not knowing from what.

Ludwig wandered into the kitchen to escape as Feliciano plopped down next to his brother, and as soon as he was gone, they started talking about him.

Go figure.

He stood close by, peered around the corner, and eavesdropped.

The first thing he heard was Lovino's guttural voice, saying, "The hell did _that_ thing come from?"

That _thing_—! Jerk.

Feliciano leaned in and said to his brother, "You see him? He's big! A lot better than tryin' to do all this stuff myself when I can just send him out instead. The first time I saw him I thought I was gonna get punched. Cute kid, though, way too nice. You'll like him. He's perfect."

Ludwig suppressed a sigh, and carried on listening in.

He heard Lovino mutter to Feliciano, "Meh—yeah, he looks tough, sure. All they gotta do is start screamin' at him though, and he'll fold. Look at him. _You _managed to bully him. Think what those other guys'll do. You shouldn't have brought him here. It was fine with just us. Three's too many."

Unease.

"Well," was Feliciano's retort, "If you hadn't gotten caught I wouldn't'a had to bring him home at all, would I, so he's really your _thing_, you know. If you didn't start so many damn fights, none of this woulda happened. Why do you have to hit everyone, huh? You're gonna fuck me over one day, too. Can't you ever be nice or something?"

"Nope."

"Well. Here, I got ya something. Figured you'd need it."

Feliciano put something in Lovino's hand, and when Lovino put his hand to his mouth and tilted his head back, Ludwig knew what it was.

One day, he'd be brave enough to ask what the hell it was they took.

But not yet.

Lovino trudged up the stairs not too long after, Ludwig crept back into the living room, and quickly realized that the room he had been sleeping in wasn't exactly a spare, after all, when the door slammed above.

Well.

There went his bed.

He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips, already resigning himself to the fact that he would probably be crashing on the couch now.

Great.

A few minutes later, Lovino came stomping back down, Ludwig was caught far too close to them, and Lovino turned to Feliciano and started bitching.

"You let him sleep in my damn bed, didn't'cha?"

Feliciano smiled, and was quick to lift his chin.

"The hell you complainin' about? You weren't even here. He wasn't doing anything to your room, you know."

A short silence, and then Feliciano laughed.

"Anyway, say what you want, but I sure as hell wouldn't kick him out of _my _bed."

Lovino gave a gruff, "Ugh."

How were they so content speaking about him when he was standing _right _there?

And that wasn't even a goddamn exaggeration. He was quite literally right there. Right there. He coulda reached out and touched them—because he was _right there_—and yet they still yammered on about him like he was in the other room.

A few grumbles, and Lovino threw himself back down on the couch with a huff.

They ate dinner a few hours later, and Ludwig was completely silent as the brothers spoke over him.

Lovino kept on drinking.

Feliciano looked at Ludwig a while later, and said, "Eat! Aren't you hungry? You're gonna get sick if you don't eat."

No appetite.

He couldn't say if it was because Lovino already didn't like him or because he was fretting about the day he too would get 'caught'. Felt a little sick, but tried to pick at his food, anyway, so Feliciano would leave him alone.

Lovino eyeballed him all night long, apparently not quite enjoying his presence there, but he didn't open his mouth to snit at him.

At least for the first few days.

After that, though, after Ludwig seemed to have become a fixture he realized he wasn't getting rid of, Lovino started tormenting him a little.

Ludwig realized he had finally reached the seventh circle of hell.

Now that he was sleeping on the couch, he found himself exposed and in the open far too often.

Lovino woke up a little earlier than Feliciano did, and was quick to throw himself down onto the couch, whether Ludwig was still reposing there or not.

Ludwig had no choice but to keep himself on alert, and if he heard steps on the stairs, he pulled himself upright before Lovino could try to squish him. Didn't really win that way, either, because then Lovino just sat down, kicked his feet on the table, and took up so much space intentionally that Ludwig was eventually sliding onto the floor.

When Ludwig took showers, Lovino came pounding on the door and barked, 'Hurry the hell up, what's takin' ya so long?' When Ludwig finally trudged out, carefully, Lovino pushed past him so hard he nearly fell, and sometimes stepped on Ludwig's bare foot with his heavy boots.

What had he done to rub this guy the wrong way?

Didn't even know him.

Lovino was aggressive for no reason whatsoever, as much as Feliciano was nice for no reason whatsoever.

Brothers. Must have been good twin, bad twin or something.

Sometimes, when Feliciano wasn't looking, Lovino would reach out and dig his fist into Ludwig's side whenever they came too close to each other.

One day, Feliciano was prepping Ludwig for a run, and Lovino came up in time to say, 'I'll do it'. Ludwig had begged Feliciano with his eyes, but the dope had been unaware and left Lovino to the task.

Lovino taped the envelope to his stomach, right over the line of hair beneath his bellybutton, and then gave a sneer as he had said, 'Whoops, it's crooked.'

Ludwig had only let his eyes water a little when Lovino ripped the tape off, and most of his hair with it, and then repeated that process a good two or three times before Feliciano came back in and shooed him off with a snarl.

'Sorry!' Feliciano had said. 'Guess I shoulda known better than that.'

No fucking shit.

God_dammit_.

Lovino must have gotten all the bad genes.

Handsome in his own rough way, though, if nothing else.

Two weeks after Lovino had gotten out of the can, he finally seemed to think it was time he actually attempted to speak to Ludwig, instead of screaming at him.

Maybe he had been trying to irritate Ludwig into leaving, and was realizing now that Ludwig wasn't going anywhere.

Somehow, Ludwig found himself alone one morning at the table with Lovino, and damn, he had never thought he would miss Feliciano and his endless babbling so much as he had then.

Because Lovino just sat there, and stared at him.

Didn't take Ludwig too long to start squirming.

"So," Lovino finally said with a sneer, making Ludwig jump in the process, "How'd you two meet?"

An actual conversation? Lovino must have finally gotten used to him.

Somehow, Lovino being comfortable around him was a little scarier. What would he do to torment him now that they were tentative roommates?

Without thinking, nervous as he was, Ludwig opened his mouth and said, "Bad luck."

It was true, yeah, but that sure as hell wasn't what he had meant to say.

These guys scared the shit out of him.

He realized his slip immediately, was pretty sure he paled, and stared at Lovino with pursed lips and tried very hard not to start panicking.

A long, hard stare.

And then Lovino suddenly barked a laugh, pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, and said, gruffly, "Yeah! Bad luck! Yeah, that 'bout sums up the bastard pretty well, doesn't it?"

As far as Lovino was concerned, apparently, Ludwig had given a good answer.

Maybe Lovino and Feliciano didn't have a perfect relationship with each other outside of work.

On the other hand, Lovino didn't really seem too fond of _him_, either, and added, "Listen here, I don't know what he was thinkin' when he brought ya home, but you're here now, aren't you? I'd say get the hell out, but you leaving might not be too good for me now, either. I just got out jail, kid, so don't fuck up. I've got my eye on you. He can coddle ya all he wants, but the first time you slip up I'm gonna beat the _hell _out of you."

...oh.

Right.

When had his palms gotten so sweaty?

His pulse seemed like it was pounding in his neck, his throat was dry, and yet somehow Ludwig said, or rather squeaked, "Okay."

Holy shit.

Lovino spared him another glance.

"Do you even know what you're doing? Did he explain anything to you or are you just hopin' it's aspirin we're shipping?"

Ludwig grumbled, "I tried not to ask."

A gruff laugh.

"Good idea. Maybe we should keep it that way. Do a good job, alright? Or else. If you get into trouble, you call here before anything else, got it? Actually, you call me instead. Feliciano is useless."

Lovino held out his hand.

"Give me your phone."

Ludwig realized that he didn't even hesitate, scrambling for his phone so fast that he nearly dropped it.

His brow was damp.

Lovino took it from his hand, Ludwig lost about two lives to anxiety, and when Lovino started shuffling through every personal aspect, as Feliciano had, he didn't even open his mouth to protest, because Lovino terrified him a little.

Long, hard stares over the top of his phone, and the leer on Lovino's face was alarming when he started reading off things aloud.

"Let's see! Roderich. Won't be needin' that anymore."

A beep, as Lovino started deleting everything inside.

Aw, fucking fuck. Trapped now more than ever.

Cell phones were the worst things, he realized, because he had gotten to used to having everything right there had he had never stopped to actually memorize those numbers.

Damn—another beep.

"Erzhabet? Ershibet? Whatever _that _is. Nope."

If he had been braver or more like Gilbert, he would have raised up his fist and said, 'Get the hell out of my business, ya fuckin' asshole'.

Instead, he opened his mouth, foundered and uttered another odd, strangled squeak, and glared at the table.

"Gilbert. Don't know him."

Beep.

It felt like eternity that Lovino held the phone in his hands, and Ludwig wanted to say, 'Please don't delete that picture', but he didn't dare.

"Any of these people call you again, you better not pick up. You don't know them anymore."

When his phone was returned, Ludwig looked down, and saw only two numbers, without names.

"The first one's mine," Lovino said. "Don't call unless it's an emergency, because god knows I don't wanna talk to _you _anymore than I have to, and don't you give that number to _anyone _or else I'll—"

"Beat the hell outta me, I get it," he muttered, perhaps riskily, but Lovino just grunted.

"Don't be smart."

Lovino raised up his hand, who knew for what, and Ludwig couldn't help it.

He flinched.

Lovino clenched his cigarette in his teeth, a crooked smile crept over his face, and he said, loudly, "What! You scared'a me or something? Ha! You're a real lightweight, huh? Never been in trouble in your life, have you?"

Ludwig shook his head.

"Yeah, I could tell. Well, don't get used to that. Won't stay that way for much longer. Ah, hell. Maybe you bein' here isn't so bad after all. A guy like you is just perfect for guys like us."

The hell did _that _mean?

Abruptly, Lovino leaned across the table, head low above his arms, and whispered, "Hope you're ready to run, 'cause I'm gonna work you into the ground."

Oh, man.

Ludwig crinkled his brow, felt the corner of his lip twist down in a half-grimace, turned his eyes to the table, and wished that he had never sat down on that fuckin' bench.

Someone had cursed him in a past life. He was gonna die, he was sure of it. These two would be the end of him.

Actually, he would be right, in a way.

The rest of the night, Lovino stared him down and had him fidgeting at nothing, and every time he jerked his hand and got Ludwig to flinch, he laughed.

Ludwig didn't say a word, because when he looked at his phone, he saw the sentimental photo with Gilbert remained.

A mercy, he supposed. At least Lovino let him keep that.

The next morning, Lovino called him over, and said, "You're stuck here now, so I'm gonna show you what we do, whether you wanna know or not. You shoulda never come here."

For guys like them, Lovino said.

Yeah.

For guys like them, Ludwig was a dream come true.

Someone to push around.

Too late now to back out.

He'd triggered the wire the second he had stepped in through that door, and the spider was already on him.

Figured.

Story of his life.


End file.
